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Chapter 3
Emma descended the grand staircase the next morning with uncertainty swirling through her gut. Once again, she'd fallen asleep with a barrage of thoughts and emotions assailing her mind and body, only to find, upon waking, a tray laden with a scrumptious breakfast and another confounding note, reminding her of their outing to the docks and concluding with yet another apology for his behaviour.
It was becoming clearer to her that the man whom she'd bound herself to for the duration of their deal was a mixture of two completely different personalities. While she held no illusions that the man who'd once made his living as a pirate had been free of all semblance of darkness before being cursed, she also sensed a struggle within him to combat a greater evil his aforementioned good form had kept him from fully succumbing to… once upon a time. Now, it was anyone's guess which entity she would be spending the morning with; the man who'd toyed with villainy, or the villain itself.
She'd find out soon enough, seeing as he was already waiting for her in the grand foyer. Dressed in his standard leather pants and billowy black shirt, he'd chosen to set off the outfit with a red, finely embroidered waistcoat and heavy duster. Draped over his arm was a warm looking cloak, with fine embellishments of its own and trimmed with fur. As she continued to approach him, he opened the cloak in invitation, and she hesitated for only a moment before turning so he could set it over her shoulders and wrap it around her form.
"You look lovely this morning, Swan," he whispered into her ear, sending a ripple of wonder down her spine. With his hand and hook at her waist, he prompted her to spin back around, facing him, and her heart fluttered at the way he stared down at her. "Ready to go, love?"
She nodded, then gasped when he pulled her in flush with his body. A surprised yelp escaped her, and she threw her arms around his neck when she felt the floor beneath her feet fall away. Plumes of crimson smoke surrounded them, and his arms tightened around her, a soft chuckle rumbling in his chest that she felt reverberate through her own as they were magically transported to the docks in an instant.
Squinting past the brightness of the sun, suddenly blinding her from above, Emma could taste the salt of the air on her tongue as the brine of the sea filled her sinuses. A cacophony of sounds echoed through the harbor; the creak of pulleys, the rattle of wagon wheels, shouts and orders being barked out among the various ships unloading their cargo, all playing out a symphony of labor that reminded Emma of the bustle she'd known at her family farm.
"Stay close, love," Killian said with a hint of command. "The docks can be a treacherous place, even in the daylight."
Taking her hand, he led her through the maze of bedlam, which nearly slowed to a stand still as they passed. Whether it was the dark aura he gave off, or the knowledge of who he was that made the men give the hook wielding, leather clad pirate and his companion a wide berth, Emma couldn't say. Nor did she care to ponder, once their destination became clear, and the tall, majestic ship they were making their way towards grabbed her attention.
"Is that her?" Emma asked breathlessly, awed by the sight of its towering masts and intricate web of rigging.
"Aye," Killian replied, not even attempting to hide the pride her response at seeing his ship stirred within him. "That's her. The Jolly Roger."
"She's stunning."
He stopped and pulled her into his chest, a cheeky and salacious smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Just like another fine lady I know," he purred, his eyes carrying the smoulder of impending heat threatening to set her aflame with his gaze. "And, like you, she is also a marvel."
Instinctively - though she couldn't say when it had become instinct, exactly - she tilted her head up in order to welcome his lips, descending towards hers. They'd only just met with a light brush when a voice called out from above, drawing Emma's focus away from the spark his lips had struck against hers, and up to where Mr. Smee was making his way down the gangplank.
"Ahoy, Cap'n," Smee greeted, oblivious to the moment he'd just interrupted. "It's good to see you again, Sir."
"Smee," Killian replied, keeping his hooked arm tucked around her waist as he offered his hand to his enthusiastic friend, who shook it vigorously with both hands.
"You got him to bring you along, I see," Smee whispered conspiratorially in Emma's direction, making her laugh with his cheeky wink. "Pleasure to see you again, lass."
"The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Smee." Craning her head back up towards the Jolly Roger, Emma commented, "Though I admit to not having spent much time at the docks, I have never seen a finer ship. She's breathtaking."
"Perhaps, if the Captain be agreeable, you'd allow me to give you a tour?"
Emma cast pleading eyes up towards Killian, her lower lip tucked between her teeth as she awaited his verdict. The muscle in his jaw flickered briefly as he considered the proposal, something clearly hindering his agreement.
As if he could read the man's thoughts, Smee stated, "Most of the crew is enjoying their leave in town. There's naught but me and two others aboard, Captain. She'll be safe enough."
Emma was about to ask why Killian wouldn't simply accompany them, when she remembered the reason for his deal with Smee in the first place. The conflicting effects of his and the ship's magic, and how his had crippling ramifications upon her enchanted nature.
"Very well," Killian acquiesced, procuring a small vial from inside one of his pockets. "And lest I forget," he said, holding the tiny bottle out towards Smee, "my end of our bargain. Satisfied for one more year."
Smee took the proffered potion, and tucked it into his pocket before giving Killian a reverential bow of his head. "Shall we, lass?" he inquired, offering her his arm.
"You're sure you can't come with us?" Emma asked of Killian, her heart breaking at the longing she saw in his forget-me-not eyes as he gazed up at his ship. "It's only for an hour or two. Surely she could endure-"
"It's not her that has to endure it, Swan. Besides," he continued, his initial gruff tone falling away in favor of something more playful, "with Mr. Smee keeping you occupied, it gives me the perfect opportunity to go in search of something special for you."
"You don't have to get me anything, Killian," she protested, noting the small shudder that ran over him when she called him by name.
"I don't do things because I have to, love," he said in a hushed, seductive tone. "I do them because I want to." Lifting her hand, he pressed a searing kiss to the pulse point behind her wrist, and it was her turn to shudder. "Enjoy your tour of the Roger, Swan. I'll be back later to collect you." Stepping back, he cast commanding eyes onto Smee and ordered, "Take good care of her, Captain."
"Aye, aye, Cap'n," he replied, holding his arm out once more towards Emma, which she took without any hesitation this time.
She spent the next couple of hours exploring the magnificent ship from stem to stern - terms Smee had taught her, along with several others - and marveling at the life led by those who answered the siren's call of the sea. Like his predecessor, Smee held a great deal of pride towards the vessel that had given him his livelihood… for several lifetimes, but it was also clear that the man did not consider himself to be her true master. Evident in many ways, but none more telling than the fact he'd never claimed the captain's quarters as his own.
"You've kept it just as it was," she marvelled, looking around the stately room and the few possessions that remained, awaiting their owner's return. "For all these years?"
"Aye," Smee responded with a tone of melancholy. "I suppose I've never given up hope that one day he'll find a way to break that wretched curse of his."
"Do you think there is one?" Emma asked, trying to keep her own bubbling hope from spilling over into her voice. "A way to break the curse, I mean?"
"If there is a way, then Cap'n hasn't found it," Smee lamented. "If he had, he'd been rid of the infernal thing long ago."
"You said before it was a dagger that allowed him to vanquish the previous Dark One," Emma reminded him. "Do you think, perhaps, this dagger might hold the key to the curse?"
Smee ran a hand over his beard in contemplation, weighing his next words. "The dagger is… It's the source of the Dark One's power," he told her with an edge of reluctance. "It's the only weapon that can kill Hook, and it can control him as well."
"What do you mean, control him?"
Nervously, Smee swiped his tongue over his lips and took a step forward, lowering his voice in fear of being overheard, even though the ship was practically deserted. "I say none of this out of any disloyalty to my captain, but only because sometimes Hook can't control the Darkness. When he first became afflicted he was… not himself at times. I could see the creature staring back at me through his eyes, but it was not Hook who inhabited them. He's gotten better at it over the years, keeping control, maintaining a divide between himself and the manifestation of his curse. Still, I think you ought to be prepared in case it takes over while you're with him."
"Prepared how?" she asked in a hushed breath. The fine hairs on the back of her neck rose at the confirmation of all she'd wondered about the man and his dual natures, remembering the moments she'd sworn to have witnessed an unnatural presence creep over his features or sneer at her from the deep recesses of his gaze.
"He carries with him a dagger. One with a scalloped edge, and engraved with his name upon its blade. Anyone who wields the dagger has the power to command him, and he is powerless to refuse their demands. It's also the only thing that can kill him, but as I said before, it will only achieve to end Hook's existence, not the Darkness itself. Killing the Dark One only transfers the curse to the one whose hand put an end to him. It's his one weakness, and…" his words fell off, a pained look of concern and guilt pinching his features, "I thought it best you know."
Emma reached out and placed her hand on Smee's forearm, giving it a light squeeze. "Thank you, Mr. Smee," she said with an understanding smile of gratitude. "And I'm sure the man you knew before the curse would be grateful, too."
"I hope so," Smee told her, covering her hand with his. "I'd like to think he would see it is an act of good form."
A knock sounded at the door, preceding a crewman's entrance, and Emma took a step back so Smee could give the man his full attention.
"Pardon the intrusion, Captain, but the Harbour Master sent word that there is an urgent matter he wishes to discuss with you."
Smee sighed. "Apologies, lass, but duty calls."
"Of course," she replied, waving off his words. "Shall I… um…"
"Wait here," he told her. "This shouldn't take long, then we can resume things once I've returned."
She nodded her acknowledgment and began inspecting the room once more as he made his exit, presumably with his subordinate behind him. A moment later, as the sound of retreating footsteps faded, she heard the door snick closed and the turn of a lock click into place.
"Not to worry, sweetheart," a voice leered from behind her. "I'll gladly keep you company whilst the Captain's away."
Emma spun around, startled, then straightened her back so as to not give away any of the trepidations the man's presence had created within her.
"Very kind of you, sir, but I have no need for your company."
"I ain't lookin' for no freebies," the man said with a disgusting swipe of his tongue over his teeth as his eyes raked over her form with a lecherous stare. "I've got money to pay ye, and it spends as well as the Captain's does."
"I assure you, good sir," she stated with a haughty tone of offense, "That you have gauged the situation quite wrong. I am not a whore, so you can keep your money and kindly let me pass."
Attempting to shove her way past the man, he grabbed onto her shoulders and tried to barr her from leaving. Emma lifted her foot then slammed the heel of her boot down onto the man's foot, making him howl before his arm swung back and stars exploded behind her eye from the force of his strike. She landed on the floor with a hard thud, the room spinning and a wave of nausea threatening to overtake her.
"I'll gladly keep my money, but you owe me for that bit o'defiance, girl," the man spat, his hands hastily undoing his trousers as Emma scurried backward.
"Stop," she croaked, fear constricting her throat. "You don't know what you're doing. He'll kill you."
"The Captain?" the man laughed coldly, shimmying his trousers down to his ankles. "Not bloody likely. Captain Smee ain't got the stomach for killin'."
"No," a cold voice menaced from the swirl of ox blood that had begun to manifest behind the man, "but I assure you, mate. I do."
Emma slammed her eyes shut when the metal gleam of his hook emerged from the plumes and embedded itself into the side of the man's neck. Even with her hands clamped over her ears, she could hear death gurgles spilling out of the man before the floor shook as his body collapsed at her feet. The weightless feeling she'd experienced when Killian had transported them to the docks came over her once more, and with it, the sensation of his embrace as his arms enveloped her and held her close to his chest.
"Are you alright, Swan?" Killian asked as soon as their feet were back on solid ground. The sounds of the docks were muffled in her ears as she attempted to process the past several minutes. "Did he hurt you?"
His fingers took hold of her chin, tilting her face up towards his, and his demeanor darkened further when his eyes narrowed in on the throbbing spot above her cheek.
"Captain? Lass? Everything alright?"
Before Emma could address Mr. Smee, who was making his way back down the dock, Killian released her chin and flung his arm out towards the man. She watched in horror as his fingers curled, as though wrapping themselves around Smee's neck as the man gasped and sputtered for air.
"Killian, stop!" Emma cried out, but her pleas went unheeded.
"No. Mr. Smee," Killian growled between clenched teeth. "Everything is most assuredly not alright." Smee collapsed to his knees, and Killian began to stalk towards him, his invisible grip still choking the life out of him. "One of your men saw fit to acost Miss Swan while she was under your protection."
"It wasn't his fault, Killian," Emma said, grasping onto his arm in an attempt to break the connection. "Please. Let him go!"
"Is this how you run things on my ship?" he continued to seethe. "Is that the kind of men you recruit into her service? Men without honor or any sense of good form? You would sully that which I have entrusted to you?"
"Hook! Stop it!" Emma yelled, finally gaining the Dark One's attention. For that was who had taken over, evident by the swirl of madness gleaming from his eyes and the glittering spectre that had taken hold of his visage. "Let him go, Hook," she commanded.
He wrenched his hand back and his eyes cleared, their forget-me-not hue shining back at her with an expression she couldn't quite read. Smee gasped and coughed as Emma rushed to his side, crouching down beside him to offer whatever comfort she could.
"I'm sorry… C-Captain," he choked out.
"You have nothing to apologize for, Mr. Smee," Emma admonished. "This wasn't your fault."
"Aye, it was," he continued to rasp, his eyes fixed on his former captain. "I know as well as Hook does that everything that happens aboard a ship is the captain's responsibility. I failed ye, Miss. And I failed my Captain." Smee got to his feet with a bit of assistance, and stood as tall as he could in the face of a still glowering Captain Hook. "I swear the man will pay for his crime against the lass," Smee declared.
"I have already seen to the matter," Killian informed him darkly before flicking his wrist towards the Jolly Roger. "And have taken care to clean up the mess I left behind. Needless to say, you find yourself with one less crewman to command."
Killian strode towards them, intent on departing, when Smee stepped into their path after he took Emma by the arm.
"Please, Captain," Smee begged. "What can I do to make things right between us?"
Emma glanced up at Killian, the muscle in his jaw ticked like mad, and she placed her hand on his chest. His eyes fell to hers and softened slightly at the pleading look she gave him.
With a deep exhale, he flicked his gaze to Smee and said, "Keep to the deal. That's all I ask, Captain Smee."
"Thank you, Sir," Smee replied in a breath of relief. "Thank you."
Emma wasn't even granted an opportunity to express her own gratitude or goodbyes to the man before Killian began marching them back up the dock. Occupied with making sure she did not stumble over the uneven boards or various bits of debris littering the walkway, she was unable to voice her protest until they cleared the wharf and found themselves on the quieter streets of the village.
"You could have at least let me say goodb-"
Killian pulled her into an alleyway and pressed her against a stony exterior wall, plastering himself to her and cutting off her admonishment.
"I wish I had the power to resurrect the dead, so I could kill the bastard over again for daring to lay a hand on what is mine," he growled before capturing her lips with a searing kiss.
His tongue was demanding, his hips impatient with the way they rolled against hers until he reached beneath her skirt and lifted her leg, cradling the back of her knee in the crook of his arm so he could eliminate as much space between them as possible. The hot slide of his mouth abandoned her lips in favor of a path that led down the side of her neck, leaving her gasping for air, then gasping at the sensation of him sucking a brand into the skin just below her collarbone.
"I don't want you to call me Hook ever again," he murmured with an edge of desperation. "I only want to be Killian to you."
"Like you were with Milah?" she panted.
He stilled at her comment, his head lifting until they were face to face once more. His eyes bounced between hers with an unreadable expression, though she got the sense her comment had caught him completely off guard. In all honesty, she had no idea what had possessed her to utter those words, that name, and half expected his darker persona to come rushing forward in response to her audacity.
Opening his mouth, he began to form a reply when his eyes suddenly became unfocused, his attention no longer set on her or their surroundings, but on something only he could see or sense.
"Bloody hell," he cursed, not quite having come back to himself.
"Killian? What is it?"
"It seems the day's intrusions are not yet concluded," he told her with a tone of exasperation. "I'm being summoned."
"Summoned?" Emma questioned, holding tight to him as he flicked his wrist and called upon the magical mist once more. "By whom?"
"Your father."
~/~
When Emma's feet met solid ground she had a moment's panic at Killian's absence while the ox blood colored smoke still circled her form, refusing to dissipate as she desperately tried to peer through the occasional break in the swirling chaos.
She could make out the Dark Vault just off to her left, the gurgling mire of pitch rising up as it had when she'd been the one to summon the Dark One. The roar of magic whirling around her made it impossible to hear anything, but she was able to catch a glimpse of her father, standing tall and proud as he shouted at Killian, who'd become fully formed atop the dias. The two traded words back and forth, her father becoming increasingly agitated while Killian kept his cool and unaffected facade, an underlying current of boredom and sinister cheek permeating the atmosphere in piercing ripples that managed to penetrate the curtain of enchantment still encasing her.
Emma called out several times, demanding Killian release her while trying to let her father know she was there. Pushing against the magical barrier did absolutely no good, but it didn't stop her from pounding her fists in aggravation. When the enchantment finally gave way, Emma stumbled forward and heard her father's relieved and slightly stunned exhale of her name. Without hesitation, she launched herself into her father's arms, wrapping him tightly within her own as his hand cradled the back of her head as it always did.
"Emma, sweetheart, are you alright?"
With a sob choking the back of her throat, Emma nodded then managed to verbalize her response. "I am, Papa. I'm just so sorry I left the way I did. I'm sorry I wasn't brave enough to face you and Mother-"
"None of that matters now," her father cut her off. His body position shifted back towards Killian, but he kept her locked in his embrace. "What matters is that the Dark One has agreed to release you from your deal."
"What?" Emma exclaimed, pulling away from her father and snapping her head towards Killian.
"That's not what I said, mate," Killian countered in a clipped tone. "I said breaking our deal would have disastrous consequences, and that the only way your daughter could return to you before our deal is complete is if she and I both chose to terminate the agreement. Which would mean you-"
"Would die," Emma finished, forlornly. "Papa, no."
She turned back to face her father, intending to make him see reason, but the only thing he saw was the bruise marring her cheek.
"Papa, no. It isn't what you think. Killian didn't-"
Her words were of no use. Fury flashed in her father's eyes as he lunged at Killian, who simply vanished in a swirl of smoke.
"Face me, you coward!" Her father bellowed at the deserted clearing as Emma rushed to him.
"Papa, listen to me! Killian didn't do this," she told him, gesturing to the bruise at her cheek. "He protected me. Saved me. He would never hurt me."
"And what about that?" her father demanded, his eyes quickly flicking down towards the neckline of her dress, and the mark Killian had branded into her skin. "How can you defend that monster after what he's clearly forced you to-"
"He hasn't forced me to do anything," she protested. A rush of heat bloomed at her cheeks, and her father's scandalized expression left a prickle of shame upon her skin, but she wouldn't have him returning home believing the worst. "I made this deal, and he has been nothing but patient. Kind even."
"Kind?" her father scoffed. "Don't be fooled by him, Emma," he warned. "Everyone knows the Dark One lies, and the Dark One tricks. In my attempts to gain access to his castle in order to rescue you, I learned he was a pirate before becoming consumed with the Darkness. Scoundrels like that can't be trusted."
"Scoundrel?" Killian drawled, manifesting once more in wisps of crimson. "I prefer dashing rapscallion."
A growl rumbled from her father's chest and he propelled himself towards Killian. This time, the Dark One did not magic himself away. Instead, he sidestepped the infuriated man's advances, ducking and swaying out of reach of every swing David sent his way. Emma hated to see her father toyed with this way. She wanted to slap the smug grin off Hook's face, because, yes, that's who seemed to be in control once again.
"Stop dancing around, and fight me!" David shouted, winded from his exertions, but no less determined.
"Fine," Killian sneered, flicking his wrist. "If you truly want your daughter back-" a sword appeared at her father's feet as Killian slowly drew his, "-all you have to do is take her."
Emma watched in horror as her father bent down to pick up the sword, his eyes never leaving the Dark One. He fiddled with the hilt, adjusting his grip, while his feet shuffled beneath him.
"Never been in a duel, I take it," Killian taunted. "It's quite simple, really. The pointy end goes into the other guy."
David let out an indignant roar and thrust his sword forward with all his might, impaling Killian upon the blade, which only made the Dark One guffaw a deep, sinister laugh. "You'll have to do better than that, mate."
Emma's horror turned to panic when her father reached forward and plucked a dagger from Killian's belt; a dagger with a scalloped edge and etched with the name Killian Jones upon its blade. Killian's demeanor immediately sobered, and his entire body stiffened when he caught sight of the dagger within David's hand.
With no thought, other than what would happen if her father commanded Killian to break the deal, or worse, managed to kill him with the blade, Emma flung herself in front of Killian, shouting, "It's too late, Papa! The damage has already been done." Placing her hands over her abdomen, she gave her father the most sincere look she could muster, and repeated. "It's too late."
"No," her father lamented, dropping the dagger, which disappeared in a cloud of smoke before it could hit the ground. "No, you can't be. It's… it's only been a couple of days. It's too soon for you to know that."
"He confirmed it this morning. With magic," Emma lied. "As I said, the damage has already been done. If I don't stay and see the deal through to the end then everything I've endured up to this point, all I must endure in the coming months, will have been for naught." Stepping forward, she cupped her father's cheek in her hand, and pleaded, "Please, Papa. Go. I promise…" Her voice hitched at the utterly despondent look in her father's eyes. "I promise to come home after… after it's..."
Emma couldn't bring herself to say anymore, couldn't let another torturous lie roll off her tongue. Backing away, she hit the solid planes of Killian's chest (her father's sword no longer embedded in his torso), and felt his arm wrap possessively around her waist.
"Tell Mother I love her," Emma choked out as the ox blood colored plumes began to envelope them. "And that I'm sorry."
The glen vanished before her eyes, her father's cry of Wait! echoing in her ears as autumn foliage was traded for the stone walls of the castle entry. Emma collapsed to the floor of the foyer, finally giving leave to the emotions she'd been holding at bay to release themselves with wracking sobs and hot tears of anguish. Stoically, Killian stood off to one side, silently allowing her whatever time and space she needed to work through her turmoil.
"What did he mean?" she asked on a teary hiccup, attempting to compose herself. Killian's brows pinched together and his head cocked in confusion. "When he said he attempted to gain access to the castle," she clarified with a sniffle. "No one but Smee has come to the castle since I arrived."
A hardened look darkened his features before he admitted, "I cast a spell to bar him, or any of the rest of your family, from being able to set foot upon the grounds."
"Why?"
"Because I knew he would come for you. After you told me you'd left them a letter as way of explanation, I knew it was only a matter of time, and time is something I wanted… needed, more of in order to…"
"Woo me?" she replied, sourly, and picked herself up off the floor. "Would you have agreed to let me go? If I had chosen to leave with him and let fate decide his future, would you have let me out of our bargain?"
"You are free to leave at any time, Swan," he answered. "You are not my prisoner."
"Aren't I?"
His jaw tightened, the muscle above pulsating as his nostrils flared. "You may feel that way, but allow me to remind you again that you sought me out. You agreed to this deal, and you can walk away from it at any time. I did not force you to make it, and I will not force you to make good on it."
"But you'll take back the healing you gave my father if I don't stay, which only ensures he'll die."
"I'm not the one who made your father sick," he reminded her with a hard edge slicing through his otherwise hushed tone.
"I know that," she snapped, more angry at herself than him.
Though he certainly had his own agenda, and knew exactly what trap he was luring her into by offering the deal, she'd been the one foolish enough to agree. Foolish enough to think she could escape fate. Where it had originally come to take her father from her, she was now faced with it taking either her own existence, wasted as she pined for her family or the life she could have had, or that of the child she might one day bear, ripped from her arms and raised without the love of its mother.
"I know you aren't to blame for my father getting sick," she murmured. "And I know what I agreed to when I made this deal. I just…" Shaking her head, not even sure what she meant to say, Emma turned and started up the grand staircase, ready to put the day behind her.
"Why did you lie to your father?" Killian's voice called out, halting her steps.
"What?"
"You lied," he stated. "You told him you were already with child, when you and I both know that isn't so." He took a few tentative steps forward, until he stood at the bottom of the stairs looking up at her. "Why the lie?"
"Because he had your dagger," Emma told him, thinking the reason would have been obvious. "I feared what would happen if he commanded you to break our deal, or if he-"
Killian raised an angry hand, staying her words as fury glittered across his features. "Smee," he sneered. "It seems my traitorous first mate told you quite a bit about this dagger of mine."
Pulling the blade from its sheath, he twirled it by the hilt while murderous thoughts played themselves out over his darkened features. Features Emma did not recognize as Killian's.
"He didn't tell me about the dagger out of any disloyalty to you, Killian," she explained on Smee's behalf. "He did it to protect me in case… in case I ever found myself in a position where you were unable to control the Darkness. He wanted me to know about its one weakness, not yours."
When he didn't respond, his focus still on the spinning blade, Emma set off towards her room once more.
"What was the other reason?" he inquired when she was halfway up the stairs.
"What?" she asked wearily.
"When I asked why you lied to your father, you were about to add another reason before I… it stopped you. What was it?"
Emma blinked in astonishment. She'd been right, it wasn't just Killian present with her in the foyer, although he seemed to be the one at the reins now. Her astonished reaction was also due to the truth revealed to her in the glen that she was only now able to fully process.
"I was afraid he might kill you," she replied softly, coming to grips with the revelation of her feelings.
"And become the Dark One himself."
His echoing murmur jarred her from her thoughts and she cast her gaze upon him, hoping he would not see the full truth within her eyes.
"Well, yes… but…"
"But?"
"I was afraid he would become the Dark One," she said before confessing, "But I was also terrified that... you might die."
Emma braced herself for more questions, for him to push her to admitting a deeper meaning behind her words, to use them to his advantage in sealing the deal she'd made. Instead, he padded his way up the steps and tucked his fingers beneath her chin, prompting her to look at him as he offered her a reassuring smile and soothing lift of his brows.
"Love, you don't have to worry about me," he told her with a sincere lilt in his normally dulcet tone. "If there's one thing I'm good at… it's surviving."
His eyes fell to her mouth before flicking back up to hers, the question surging from their blue depths like an ocean spray. Lifting herself up onto her toes, Emma answered with the press of her lips, still unsure what the remainder of her reply would be if he asked for more, seeing as her emotional state was holding on by a mere thread at this point.
Perhaps sensing her hesitation, or simply reading her like the open book she was to him, Killian pulled back just far enough to rest his foreheads against hers, and bid, "Get some rest, Swan. You've had a trying day."
One last kiss was placed along her hairline before the all too familiar crimson plumes engulfed her, transporting her to her bedroom. Alone.
Like each night before, Emma was left to wrestle with the new sensations and emotions Killian had sparked to life within her, but unlike before, these feelings had nothing to do with the temptations of the flesh.
No.
Tonight, Emma would have to endure the longings of her heart.
